Cemetery Drive
by Secret Starr
Summary: Ichigo Kurosaki only became like this once a year. The rest of the time he was his scowling, bad tempered self. But tonight, ever since six years ago, he became this...everything she would have hated. Ichiruki, NOT A SONG FIC!


Excuse the spelling and possible grammar mistakes as they might be everywhere.

Based off of the My Chemical Romance song, Cemetery Drive, but it is NOT A SONG FIC!!

Enjoy, or not, the fic.

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CEMETERY DRIVE

Ichigo Kurosaki breathed heavily. A five o' clock shadow adorned his face, but not a soul was around to see it in the moonless night.

He staggered from the black Jaguar, leaving the door open, simply placing the keys in his suit pocket as he grabbed a woven basket and started walking away from the glistening car.

He kept up his slow pace as he trudged along his way to his final destination. The stars winked down on him, visible from the absence of the moon. Autumn leaves rolled around in the breeze as a wise owl hooted down on the scenery of an orange haired man making his way around the stones around him.

That same man seemed to limp his way over to a special patch of grass, now kneeling in front of none other than Rukia, as he pulled out the small basket. He reached inside and pulled out two wine glasses and a half empty bottle of _flur de la soile_ 1898.

Ichigo gently set down the glasses and poured the red drink into both of them.

"Here's to you, Rukia." He said, drinking his wine down all in one breath.

Rukia had been dead six years to this date.

--

"You don't like it, do you?" Rukia pouted, spinning around in a newly bough red silk dress, bought for the occasion of Ichigo's hospital dinner party, him having been promoted to being the head of Kurakura hospital.

"Not for the price, either." Ichigo said with raised eyebrows as he looked at the receipt, the paper feeling like wasted money already. He was siting in one of their over stuffed armchairs and was interrupted by an overly excited Rukia who made him stop reading his newspaper and made him start looking at her.

"Why not? It's pretty enough, isn't it?" She questioned him, slowing her spin to a stop as the dress followed.

It was formal enough, that was true, but Ichigo just didn't like it for some reason or another. The heart shaped neckline, the empire waist, the way that it went to her mid shin after poofing out a little bit. Most would think it was gorgeous, but Ichigo couldn't bring his mind around to liking it.

"No, I don't like it. But it is a good thing I like the girl in it." He gave her a rare smile, loving the way it made her fluster just the tiniest bit...it had worked ever since they had gotten married a little more than two years ago.

She walked over to him, siting on his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck, nuzzling her head into his neck.

"Well, I guess I'll just have to deal with your criticism, eh, stupid?"

"Looks like it, idiot."

She turned her head towards him and they kissed...

But neither one of them would know it would be their last.

--

Ichigo finished the rest of the bottle, leaving "Rukia's" wine glass on the grass in front of her headstone. His vision had blurred and his head was pounding. Maybe he had too much to drink, because now he was face down in the grass feeling like he was going to throw up.

Maybe it was from the twin of _flur de la soile_ 1989 he had drunken earlier.

And now two bright lights were glaring off his head and he could sense them through his closed eyes.

And it hurt like hell.

--

Ichigo had just barely gotten his suit back from the dry cleaners. He was wearing it now, throwing his previous clothes in the entry way of their apartment.

"Rukia, I..." Ichigo froze.

Rukia's resitue was gone.

Ichigo was now undoing his tie which was strangling him now, his breath coming in short gasps as he speed his walk around the apartment, searching threw every room, coming into the bathroom only to find...

Rukia.

--

"Karin! Over here!" Ichigo heard fuzzily, lifting his head up to find his blonde sister. Not a child anymore, she was now a twenty-six year old women, with a living husband and a child of her own.

Karin now joined her by her side, equally as beautiful as her twin as she glanced down at him with pity.

Yuzu sighed. "Oh Ichigo, what has become of you?" She said gently, walking over to him as Karin did the same, each dragging him by one arm, as he hung his head in silent defeat.

"Yuzu, Karin." He croaked. "I'm sorry about all of this-"

"It's okay, Ichigo." Karin said, keeping her eyes forward not to have to look at her brother, keeping her eyes on her goal, her car still a good twenty feet away.

"I'm...I'm s...sorry." He managed to get out before Ichigo's world went fuzzy and black.

--

"Rukia." He had whispered.

There she was, her wrists had been cut, but what really caught his eye was the slash that ran through her, shoulder to hip.

It wasn't an ordinary sword inflicted gash...it had to have been done by a zanpacto.

"RUKIA!" He yelled, crawling to the floor next to her, cradling her torso in his arms, her empty eyes looking into his.

She was in her red dress...the one she had been so proud of, the one he had hated...

Until now.

It was the most beautiful dress he had ever seen on her, the most beautiful thing to be on his precious Rukia. His dead Rukia.

"No, no, no, no, no." He said softly at first, now it growing to a yell. "NO!"

Her bleeding had stopped, which meant it had to have happened right after he had left the apartment for his suit...his suit that was now bleed over and he didn't care. He didn't care about anything right now other than the girl he would never see again, the girl he wanted was to spend eternity with.

And that had been taken away from him.

"RUKIA!"

He was sobbing, sobbing into her bloodied chest, her head rolling to be on top of his, as if she were still alive and merely comforting him.

Ichigo looked at her hand, something was clenched in it, as if it were meant for him to find.

He slowly undid every finger, carefully as if she could be broken even more.

It had been a pregnancy test...and it had been positive.

--

Ichigo moaned awake. He was in his new apartment...the one he had lived in for the past six years.

But most importantly of all, he was in his bathroom.

Puking.

He hurled out the wine and anything else that had previously been in his stomach. The slippery and slimy feeling in his throat left a bitter taste in his mouth and the smell only made him throw up even more.

Someone was rubbing his back as the toilet now became his best friend. Every spew of vomit making his stomach convulse into a ball of knots and breaking him into a cold sweat.

When he finally felt well enough to leave the toilet, he just slumped onto the floor as he heard the toilet flush, which was much too loud. Every noise was making his ears throb and his head had already been pounding as he felt sweat fall from his hairline down to his jaw.

"There we go, Ichi, almost there." Yuzu said, supporting him as they walked him to his bed.

He felt the cool fabric against his rough face, his head lolling around as he found a resting place for his it, coughing up what could have lead to more puking, but nothing was left in his stomach to be taken out of him.

He again feel asleep as he heard Karin and Yuzu leaving his small apartment.

"Do you think he'll be okay?"

"It's today, _that_ day, what do you think?"

Sigh.

"I guess you're right. He's gotten so bad, he worries me Karin."

"I know. Me too."

--

Ichigo wanted to cry, his lungs wouldn't take in air and his heart felt as if it would stop beating and rip it's self from his chest.

He looked up into his dresser and remembered what laid in here.

A .22 pistol.

A _loaded_ .22 pistol.

He thought about it, thinking about his options.

He didn't have many.

He looked from his dresser to Rukia.

Was it worth it to her? For her?

But than he thought...

'_What would she want me to do?'_

--

Morning.

He hated morning.

He threw one of the pillows on his queen sized bed at the open window, where autumn birds were chirping to each other which was, of corse, too loud.

But most importantly, it meant he woke up alone.

--

He turned his head away from the dresser and the thought in shame. Why would he even do that to himself for her? That's not what she would've wanted. She would want him to get old and be wrinkled by the time he died. To be a crazy old man...with or without her.

But why did this have to happen? To her?! Why not him?!

What did she do? Was this for Kaien? Was this some punishment for being _forced_ to kill a comrade?

Or was it punishment to him?

For being responsible for his mother.

Why couldn't he be home to protect her?! Wasn't that what he had sworn? Wasn't that part of the deal when they had gotten married? Though hadn't he made that promise before they had even met? With his family, right after his mom died, that he would protect those who were around him...and most of all those who he cared about.

That was his promise he had tried so hard to keep.

He had failed to keep it.

--

Now Ichigo truly woke up. The sun was setting and his head was almost clear.

He drowsily looked over at his night stand, seeing a glass of water on the table and Advil lying close to it.

He swallowed the Advil dry and walked over to where he had thrown the pillow, shivering in the setting sun.

He gazed out the window, eyes blank at recalling what he had done.

Rukia had always hated it when he had drank. She said it made him helpless and weak when he was truly a strong person.

Ichigo didn't feel strong anymore. Not since her death.

Everyone told him to get over it. He was an attractive twenty-nine year old man with a great profession in the medical field, running his own hospital for the past six years. Ever since he was twenty-three...ever since Rukia's death.

When did it not haunt him?

He missed her. He missed her so bad that he hadn't visited the soul society for four years.

He hadn't been out with his friends for the past three.

And he hadn't talked to them for the past two.

What would Rukia want him to do? Live would be one of them...but it was so hard without her. She had...she had this way of making life interesting. Wether it was a hard to find smile or kick in the shin...she was so unexpected...so unpredictable. So worth living for.

But now she was gone, did that mean his life was too?

A gentle wind tossed his hair gently. He closed his eyes and lifted his head to enjoy the small warm breeze. It smelled like the leaves in the air and reminded him of more memories of Rukia. The good ones, the bad ones, and the average everyday ones...

He missed her.

He missed her so much it hurt.

Every day was a new challenge. Every morning waking up alone was a hit to the heart. Every evening eating dinner alone was depression making it's mark on his face. And every thought of her killed him a little bit more.

He closed the window and felt as if it had rained on his face...which he only now realized they were his own salty tears.

He was crying for her.

He missed her.

He loved her.

And he had to go on without her.

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Review if you like, please. Flames always accepted, so don't be shy!


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